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Wednesday, 26 September 2012

A strange old day

I get really stuck on rainy days like this. I'm not sure if I would prefer it if the kids were here or not. All around the house there are jobs screaming to be done.

"Me first, " says the cooker.

"No, me! I am an unpainted wall, you said you were going to do me last year!" cries the bare plaster.

"Oy, you, the one on the computer all the time, isn't it about time you sorted out this office, look around you its a God damn disgrace!" shouts the room I am in.

But I have ignored them all and spent a happy morning speaking to a long lost friend, having a nosy round The Old Haberdashery and Tatty Tutu's and then finally making the rhubarb and date chutney I promised myself in June. It feels like a major achievement as there is now a gaping hole in the freezer where 2kg of rhubarb once sat, and I have 9 Christmas gifts sorted.

Some days you need a pootle and a potter. Not every day can be a rush from one job to the next productive moment. I needed today and the rain was fitting. My neighbour died yesterday. She was 23. Cancer. I needed today to try and process that.

About Me

I am 38 (Actually I'm a bit older now - but I started this blog when I was 38) I have been writing a diary since I was 12. That's 26 years of my life accounted for in diaries collecting dust in the loft. Every single day written in detail, apart from 3 months whilst in Kenya when my bag was stolen on a bumpy bus ride to Lamu. And then one day in February 2012 I just stopped. I couldn't see the point any more. I wasn't prepared for the feelings that followed, that suddenly I had no record of the crazy life encounters I was having, the places we go, people we meet etc. So instead I have to decided to share my reflections here, of life in the English countryside with two children aged 3 and 6 (actually, they're a bit older now too)